Sunday, December 07, 2014

Rabbis Are Not God: A Lesson From The Freundel Scandal ‎

I’ve been in the rabbinate for 25 years, and I think it’s high
time we had a conversation about what a Rabbi should be.

A scandal too farfetched for a screenplay has come to light.
A rabbi used a hidden camera to take videos of female conversion candidates undressing
in the mikvah. Nothing could be more abhorrent: a spiritual leader in a spiritual place,
violating the most spiritual moment in a convert’s life.

This scandal is shocking, yet commonplace. There are now so
many rabbinic scandals exposed, from rabbis of all stripes, that there are
special websites devoted to rabbinic scandals. This has shaken me to the core.

There was a time when
I thought Rabbis were special. Rabbis were supposed to be spiritual heroes,
overcoming temptations others could not. Even in the worst moments, one could
depend on rabbinic leadership. Elie
Wiesel said that “in the (concentration) camps, there were kapos…(who were).. former
professors, industrialists, artists, merchants, workers, militants from the
right and the left….. but not one kapo had been a rabbi.”Shouldn’t years of careful spiritual training
change us into giants?

Yes, rabbis have to be special; we are role models, a
living example of what a Torah life should be. The Talmud says one can learn profound
lessons from a rabbi’s idle chatter, and from sitting at the dust of his feet. Rabbis
are meant to be like “an angel of the Lord above”, a man who is part prophet,
part priest.

This image of the superhuman rabbi is one that remains
dominant, even today. Chasidim have a theology of the Tzaddik, a man born with
an extraordinary soul. And even among non-Chasidim, most biographies of great
Rabbis portray them as true angels. These are true hagiographies, meant to
carefully preserve the Rabbi’s image while airbrushing out all faults. Great
rabbis are meant to carry otherworldly wisdom, able to tell us God’s will regarding
electoral politics and real estate deals. When a book is written that speaks
honestly about the imperfections of great rabbis, (like the “The Making of a
Godol”) a controversy erupts. We want our Rabbis to be perfect, to preach
wisely, practice piety and produce miracles.

But sadly, that’s not what happens in real life. There are rabbis
who are cruel to vulnerable converts, and rabbis who are weak, materialistic,
hypocritical and dishonest. Perhaps Wiesel is right that Rabbis rarely became
Kapos, but read the newspapers and you’ll see there are many other vices Rabbis
have fallen into. And even those rabbis who are good people are imperfect. But
we refuse to accept this, and demand perfect role models. (This desire is a universal
phenomenon, one that extends well beyond the Jewish world; even Abraham Lincoln
subscribed to the view that “let us believe…that (George) Washington was
spotless…it makes human nature better to believe that one human being was
perfect”).When you expect perfection
from imperfect people, something will go wrong.

To keep up with the demands of perfection, some rabbis
become “religious politicians”, who use their charm and wit to maintain
popularity, while losing sight of their ideals. Others, intoxicated with the
power of the rabbinate, drink the Kool-Aid and imagine themselves to be God’s
gift to humanity. Both forget who they are, their identity distorted by the
funhouse mirror of religious authority. Sadly, congregants drink the Kool-Aid
as often as the rabbis. Pick up some of the popular rabbinic biographies, and
you’ll even see faults being spun as virtues. One rabbi’s lack of involvement
with his family is seen as the virtue of devotion to Torah study. Another
rabbi’s short temper is considered to be a desire for high standards. A
Rebbetzin’s rejection of vaccinations and interest in homeopathic remedies is
seen as wise rather than dangerous. And of course, if a rabbi is otherwise
respected, his request for “practice dunks” is seen as meticulousness, rather
than something bizarre and disturbing.

Rabbis are not God. Too often, rabbis and congregants
confuse being a role model with being an angel. This attitude is incredibly
unhealthy, and gives license to corruption and superstition.

Actually, one thing I’ve learnt in 25 years in the rabbinate
is that I make mistakes, lots of them. There was the time early in my career,
when I was all set to give a rip-roaring speech one Shabbat about the beauty of
marriage, and had a painful fight with my wife the Friday night before. I
learned that preaching is precarious, and that it’s uncomfortable to talk about
greatness while you are still mediocre yourself; and I imagine virtually every
rabbi, on their own level, struggles with similar issues.

But imperfection doesn’t stop someone from being a role
model; on the contrary, it makes them more relatable. Jacob’s wrestling and
Judah’s repentance make them two of the Bible’s most significant heroes; Akiva
and Reish Lakish become the Talmud’s greatest rabbis, despite their shady
backgrounds. The struggling man of repentance who overcomes his frailties is
the one who achieves the highest level of human greatness.

The rabbis who have inspired me most are the ones who were
willing to admit mistakes, and humbly embraced everyone, no matter who they
were. These rabbis greeted everyone warmly, including the neighborhood nuns,
and made sure the children from the poorest families were treated with the same
respect as everyone else. They were “angels” not because they were perfect, but
because they were sincerely devoted to God’s work.

In the wake of this awful scandal, we should reconsider what
we want in a rabbi. Yes, brilliance, charisma and piety are wonderful, but only
if grounded first in humility and compassion. Before looking for a spiritual leader
who’s an angel, let’s just find one who is a mensch.